The Boy Who Lived in Draco Malfoy's Head
by hesinlovewithyou
Summary: Reality starts to set in and begins to threaten Draco's mental state. He must comes to grips with the fact that Harry is really dead or die trying to claim something that was never really his to begin with.


**The Boy Who Lived in Draco Malfoy's Head**

Written by: Sailoronthedrarryship

Beta: Everythingbuttheglasses

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own any of the characters found in this fan-fiction and I am not receiving any form of payment for it.

**Author's Note:** A very special thanks to Shannon (everythingbuttheglasses), who is my personal Molly Weasley because she took me and my fan-fiction into

her burrow of a life even though she had a fan-fiction of her own to tend too.

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><p>Draco's smokey-gray eyes slowly arose from their hiding spots as the sun dropped rays of light across his fully exposed skin, in which the pale almost<p>

porcelain color reveled that it didn't happen often. Yet when it did, the sun was as gentle as it could be. Muscles began to appear in the boy's thin arms as

he let out a long stretch, followed by a low yawnthat was carried out until his arms came back down. His finger tips moved over a warm, smooth surface in a

gentle rhythm before he turned to submerge himself into the source of the heat. Something grazed across his nose in soft wisps, giving him a slight tickle.

Looking up in search of the source, his curiosity was short lived as a scar in the shape of a lighting bolt was thrusted into his line of sight; a scar that seemed

to possess a lightning ability to shock and leave Draco searching somewhere deep for only word that came to mind and mouth was,

"Potter?" leaving Draco's lips in low strangling gasp.

Draco finally broke his piercing gaze away, as the body beneath his hand began to move. Quickly, he retracted his hand, wondering why he hadn't moved it

away sooner. Draco went back to look at the lighting scar but his gaze was met by a pair of deep green eyes that seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. It

wasn't until Draco felt the other boy's hot breath against his lips to realize how close they now were

"Morning." was all Draco heard before a pair of slightly chapped lips were pressed against his own.

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><p>Breaking away in that moment was a mistake, as the warmth of the boy straddling above him was replaced with a coldness, this feeling sent him back to<p>

reality almost too suddenly.

"Harry...Harr...Potter! Get Off!" Draco snapped as he shoved at the boy's shoulder but, they didn't give a single inch. In an exasperated sigh, all movement

ceased except for the slowing rhythm of two once desperately panting chests.

"I..I think it's time for you to leave. So, please gather your things quickly. I have things to tend too." Draco spoke in soft tone as he slid his hand down the

boy's arm and onto the white sheets beneath them. He didn't dare look into those piercing green eyes that would shattered the composed mask, Draco had

spent years building and hiding behind.

Half-heartily Draco wanted some kind of resistance or objection from Harry but, to his dissatisfaction the boy obliged, moving away from Draco, leaving a

feeling of emptiness somewhere deep inside. Draco slowly closed his eyes as if to keep from seeing Harry leave because he feared that he wouldn't be able

to control the burning urge to grab the boy by his wrist and pull him back into the warmth they had just shared. Draco didn't dare open his eyes, not even for

a peek as he waited to hear the light footsteps heading for the door and the sound lock clicking into place but, no such thing was heard.

After a few moments, Draco brought his gave up and stared into a empty room being drowned in a shinning yellow stream of light, though the feeling it gave

off was more of a foggy winter morning. He slowly sat up to lean against the wood-cavern headboard, running his slender fingers against the slightly swollen

and discolored lips that were a ravishing contrast to the surrounding sat there, just brushing his fingers against his lips for what seemed like decades until

he decided to wash away the morning and the unpleasant feeling that was left behind as he walked in to the bathroom,

...to his escape.

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><p>Draco wasn't phased by the rushing coldness of the water that numbed him to the very core as it glistened over ever crease and curve of his body.<p>

Nowadays, he welcomed the feeling that had become all to familiar with him during the later years of Hogwarts. He often spent hours allowing the cold water

to course over his skin in hopes that it might wash away the filth of the weight of all the tears of his classmates, the ashes of his true

home...Hogwarts, and all the blood of those who died was just to much for Draco's fragile figure to handle, anymore.

The creaking of the faucet as Draco struggled to find the sensation back into his fingertips, was a warning signal that reality lied outside the bathroom door.

Slowly, Draco stepped out of the shower and staggered toward the sink. A mirror hung above but in turn, it wouldn't be there for long, for Draco had the

tendency to have to replace them quite he clutched the sides of the sink, the reflection of his platinum hair dripped small droplets of water from

the peak of collected hairs steaming from his forehead. the view in the mirror didn't reflect Draco but an unsightly memory of Draco sobbing to in a Hogwarts

bathroom during sixth year.

An eerie feeling lingered as he realized this was the part where Harry was suppose to come fourth from the distant shadows. Draco stared deeply into the

spot on the mirror where Harry would of been standing if the memory hadn't slipped from sight. Leaving him with a sudden sickly feel as he remembered

what would of followed if the memory had continued.

Draco regained composure after a few moments and returned his gaze to the mirror, which was now reflecting a different image. He winced strongly at the

person in view, who was covered in deep bruises that varied in shades of blue and purple. The bruises were from his father, though his father never dared

to hit Draco, the feeling of constant disapproval was enough to leave a mark. But, the largest and darkest bruise was located in the center of Draco's palm

on the hand that Draco extended out to Harry amongst their arrival into Hogwarts for the first time, the same hand that Harry strongly declined. This was the

only bruise that hurt to touch because it was filled with all the pain and humiliation of that moment. Draco curled his hand into fist so tight that his knuckles

turned bone white and his arm began to shake violently. Not easing up on his grip, Draco collapsed to the cold tiled floor in gasping sobs as he ran his

fingers over his unmarked flesh until he reach down to his left forearm, where the scaring of the dark mark was a constant reminder that Draco wasn't pure,

no matter how long he sat in those ice bathes of his. Draco crawled across the hard floor and slumped against the door as he thought to himself that mirrors

truly were windows into a person's soul, and with that Draco told himself that he wanted to board them up as if a hurricane was about hit, in order to keep

the darkness in.

Draco braced himself for the reality that lied ahead as he slowly turned the sliver doorknob and hastily stepping out the door.


End file.
